


key lime

by ruruka



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: future foundation canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 22:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13444974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruka/pseuds/ruruka
Summary: togami and komaru play love live.





	key lime

"I'm seventeen, you know, I'd be fine home alone."

One thing must always lead to another, lest life halt hearts in a clench altogether. The one thing of this rotation had been a nasty little mission to trounce through Hokkaido rubble, perilous in its quiet, devastating to those wet at the center to intake it and to think too far past. The another- that'd been that mushy hearted mission taker in such a desperate need for someone to watch over his darling baby sister whilst he left their apartment to her alone.

Togami does not care to dwell on the details thereafter, because he'd quite like to savor his dignity, and dignified men do not melt for sweet green eyes and lips so pleading. He'd intaken lengthy the bidding him most qualified, most responsible and able to be trusted with the jangle of keys to palm. He'd intaken quick the turn of defeated throat to rather asking another, and shot back sharp that their intern was only an intern for assuredly strong rationale, and found himself the next evening's twist in Naegi Makoto's living room, positively sweltering.

(Of course, not outwardly, because he's a Togami, he's  _the_ Togami, and he's all the most dignified, as he's said.)

Beside his postured perch, she leans in a slouch to the sofa's back, comfort levels well past pristine to be soaking in the rays of a sun she's a handful met. Passing office visits. He recalls them vaguely, though examines her now in his turn leftways; her eyes (as big and life threatening as her sibling's) rest to the short television at a corner, and she's that same untameable bushel of cowlicks and a voice just as whiny, brain just as dull. Her legs kick in idle rhythm out before her in her slump, the fashion he's to censure in a constant the knee bouncing incessantly beneath the break room lunch table. Just as fidgety.

"How do you turn the oven on?" is all he says to her, tone bored in its lacking inflection to face back front. A thumb runs along the screen to his phone, working, watching, waiting.

Need not he peel his gaze away to catch her sputtering, the open close of mouth and puffed pout of it to follow. "...At least I know what a vending machine is."

It strikes only his cord of faded memory, chases with a low note to shared moments to take amusement at his expense, and once he's wrapped it all up to one neat equation he takes the gut value that Naegi talks about him. Something to that treats him kindly, in a way, likes the taste of his grandeur spread about. Naegi Makoto comes home after long days as the fourteenth branch's favorite underdog, undoes his tie and slips his leather laced Armanis off (and Togami only knows the finite details of his shoes because he's still got the receipt kicking around in his wallet somewhere), talks about the afternoon through mouthfuls of microwaved squalor.  _Today at work,_ he says, stuffing down more leftover curry rice,  _Togami told me I staple papers like a lobotomized jackalope, and then did it for me the right way. He's perfect and sexy and always so right about everything._

And he realizes one thing had led to choke tongued anothers again, and he's been told he turns jokes into lesson plans far too often.

"My worldly knowledge far exceeds what you could even dream of," he quips tightly back, though her ears find deafness aside what drama faces the characters on the screen before her. He focuses back to his own, thinks her babysat well enough for the time being to leave him sound.

"What's for dinner?" breaks to that sound no less then an hour's half later, and he glances up in his neck's natural crick to face her anew.

"You're seventeen, you know, you could fend for yourself," he says to her, delights in his own wit.

A groan so  _teenagery_ it pains him drags her into sitting upright, huffs heavy to fists at the hips. "Come on, you're the most loaded guy in Japan. Let's order some toro."

"Your body would reject anything above the value menu." His device slips to an inside pocket, folds arms leans regal to tut, "Watch your show, I don't have time to entertain you every moment."

She mirrors him in crossing arms over chest, mocks his haughty reign over the world. "Makoto said you're supposed to take care of me for the weekend."

"I don't care," he says, as years of washing waves have smoothed his glass rim, and he's too exhausted with his life to be clever every second. And he's right, he doesn't care what  _Makoto said,_ would much rather her lilt off what Makoto said of him (besides the comment on his wealth, for that ties null to his personality nor the feelings that meet it) than orders from those who must stack on each other's shoulders to slap him warmed.

Either way, neither way, she drops herself back to lain, and her pout wanes gradual to being enthralled further to the fantasy world behind the glass all over again. Togami allows himself a lean back to the upholstery about him, cotton and aged.

It's quiet a while, six of the clock's dark fading past sheer drapes. A tall corner lamp lights their way behind the couch. Interest in stress cannot coax him to pull out his cellphone again. Business is business is his life's long threaded duty, purpose, though he decides babysitting is a business its own, decides its late on a Friday night and he has no quotas to meet whilst his newly appointed division superior's away acting superior over other others. What's that called- a  _break?_ Merely, he'd like to keep his roots blond past thirty.

"...I think you'd like this show," knits him pretty in shame, knows he's caught with eyes limp rested to the flashing television screen, and he hadn't been  _watching,_ just sitting with his neck for once straightened, and the brunette on this episode has an all too charming smile- but, Komaru's prattling along over his dead milked gaze anyhow, says, "It's about that girl-  _her,_ see -and she and that dude are dating, but she has to move away and doesn't know how to tell him."

"Why not try,  _I'm moving, goodbye,"_ he suggests, but is hushed in a palm waving out.

"It's not that easy, they're in love!" Her hands go again to rest at her middle, feet stilled now to the carpet. "They remind me a lot of you and Makoto."

He'd choke in theatrics were he pressed by water down the throat. A straighten further finds him, pulls neat a left lapel. "Of course, just like us. Aside from their appearances, personalities, lives, and romances, but, of course."

Big and life threatening those hazels go to a swivel. "No, this is your future. The show started out with them wanting to be together, but not knowing how. The girl used to gush about the guy all the time to her sister. I told Makoto that was just like him. He said he was cancelling the cable, but-"

"This isn't my concern," Togami cuts in hotly, as much so to match the sweat along his nape, the catch in his lungs. Never is he one to refuse gossip, found most always round the corner of a wall whilst the nobody from the ninth division is told to have his desk cleaned out by three, but he finds this well past office hearsay to allow himself the drinking of. Knowing the handsome guy he's been attached at the hip to since high school years he dare not think on could possibly lust after his touch, his scent clung to linens long after morning wake, and furthermore crave it rather than his second hip's extension, blunt banged and blunt voiced and leather sweeping lavender from shoulders taut- well, well that'd be just delicious, because he quite adores winning. Even so in competitions he hadn't meant to enter.

Regardless, she's clasped her lips to a cunning smirk, said  _oookaaay_ and wrapped the rest up tight locked. "You and my brother work really well together, I think. You're always out saving the world, and everything,  _heh._ " A finger pads aside her puckering lips that pop fixed to go on, "I've seen how much fun you guys have together, too. Makoto talks about it all the time."

"Yes, I've gathered that," he replies, stiffened in discomfort massaging his tendons.

She smiles into saying, "Well, I like to see him happy, even if he is a huge dweeb. Hanging out with friends is a good reminder that...the world is still good, even in all this. Me and Touko made panda onigiri last week! They were  _so_ cute!" That finger- tap, tap, tap, still. Where she'd so blatantly hopped a lighter subject segway, she bears now rather a tetchy frowning. "She's not as good at it as my friend Chieko used to be though... But- But Kirigiri's fun, too, and Asahina- and you, obviously, but we don't get to hang out much."

As before he takes again to observing her, the soft curves to her face and hair a halo's length about it, and he'd compare her to an angel were he mediocre enough. Something in her, still- it's an anchor. In both of them (and he needn't specify-  _please)._ His chin tilts higher, tears away from the salted tides of her expression lapping so melodious, knows in the same lick they've the ability to snatch sailors from their ships.

"I think it'd be fun, though," she says in a look his way. Innocence lines her contours. "Youngest siblings have to stick together. ...Even if- well, even if you don't have family left anymore, that's okay. You can be part of ours."

Perhaps he's drowning. A hand presses gainst his chest to clear in a low  _mhmh._ "Business and personal relationships do not mix well. That's as if I've any interest to do so."

His hasted addition is deemed irrelevant by her always darting mind, and stratus gives way so immediate to sun gleams he's left to gawk at her authenticity. She says to his flaming chagrin, "It worked for Nozomi and Eli!"

Fingers go to a push up his bridge, behind those lenses a thin leer to curiosity. Washing waves. "For... _whom?_ "

Solid minutes pass on his insipid gaze leant down tight, and she's pressed right up to his side as if he's her own elder sibling, palavering, gesturing, clapping hands together in discordant joviality. She orders his attention toward the phone in her hold, cracks webbing up one half irrelevant to the the dashing prancing colors about the game she flashes to him.

"They're student council president and vice president!" she explains, answers the questions he's since forgotten in her mile a minute rambles, her  _it's a really fun game Makoto and I play it together all the time he said it reminds him of his friend from middle school but he has the worst luck and always pulls regular cards but I have FOUR ultra rare ones see they're all idols and they have really good songs and-_ His head spins to the cutesy tones knifing his flesh.

"It's a really fun game," goes repeated, grin too magnificent to ever wish denial. A rounded nail draws his eyes in a point at the screen. Smiling faces do null to excite his interest, though he listens on despite it. "That one's Makoto's favorite, she's the leader. But I like Kotori, she has the best voice. Oh!" That finger swipes over, that delighted simper fixing to an imp's. "This one's you."

"Me," he says back flatly to her, honing inward to look. He thinks it all foolish, though he has two full days to keep his charge civilized, and if placating her information dumping frenzy makes that time tick easier, hell, he'd let her tell their nine full life stories.

Komaru nods bold, pumps an elbow close at her side.  _Check_ goes along that mental list; same bursts of confidence he finds forever charming. "That's who I mentioned before, Eli. She's tall and blonde, a little bit white, totally gay. You know, like you." Eyelashes bat. He meets her glance darkly, until they each shift back to the cajoling yowls from the device's speakers. "But, she's like, the mom friend, the responsible one. I like her. Makoto says she's better with Honoka, but I think she's totally dating Nozomi. I mean, come on, it's obvious."

A thousand things meet his mind as to what he'd rather dig to the underlying tone of, though hasn't the time to list them before she's offering out her crushed little cellphone to him and saying, "You try it. It's really fun."

Bottom to top taut his lips take purse, tentative to the lift of a hand to accept it. Smoothed glass rim. She directs him to selecting a song, a team of girls flouncing and grinning and beckoning his acceptance. It comes, leads him to the opening jingles before circles prod the arena.

"Press it!" shouts from over his shoulder, each fist clenched before her and star glints replacing her hazel green shimmers. "Oh, hold that one down, and let go... _now!_ Yes! You're awesome at this, Togamichi!"

The music continues beneath his thumbs. Mild go his eyes to peripheral, back to the screen in time to meet a dozen  _PERFECT_ s cheering him on the same. Lightly, a smirking mirth challenges his mouth.

"Woohoo! Full combo on your first try? Makoto was right, you really are good at everything."

His pulse thrums against his own veracity.

The missing two from their office lot return Sunday night with good news of the mission. Naegi invites Togami to stay for dinner to thank him for the favor. Togami says he'd rather try a steakhouse in Minato, and he'll pay and he'll dress sharp and he'll pick him up at seven. That same soft grin, flush to cheekbones in a nodding duck forwards.

He gleams on his trek down steps tall.

Perhaps he's drowning.


End file.
